I stopped outside the infirmary, my hand on the lever to the door, when it suddenly opened.
A lean man, approximately my height, with thinning hair and mutton-chop side-whiskers—I was always curious how that description came about, as he did not resemble a sheep in the slightest.
Obviously equally surprised at finding someone there at that time of the morning, he looked at me with a curious expression, grey eyes staring at me over the top of half-lens glasses.
“You must be Lady Forsythe,” he said by way of greeting.
I did not recall previous introductions. It was obvious, however, by the stethoscope about his neck that he was a physician.
“It was late in the evening and we weren’t properly introduced,” he said at my obvious curiosity. “I’m Dr. Watson. I’ve been attending Mister Brodie. Dr. Daniel Watson,” he added at my surprised reaction. “No relation to the gentleman in Sherlock Holmes stories, except for the coincidence of the name, and our profession of course. You’re here regarding the patient.” He angled the door open a few inches more.
“It was a long night after he finally settled. As you see, he is finally sleeping. He does have a formidable spirit.”
Formidable. Now there was a word I had not thought of before.
“He’ll be all right?” I inquired as I looked past him to where Brodie was lying quite still on one of those hospital beds.
“As I said, he is quite formidable. A broken rib can be most painful, and he appears to have at least two, possibly three. I managed to bandage him up to prevent too much movement on the van ride here last night.
“And then there are superficial wounds,” he continued. “A deep cut over his left eye and a head wound. I stitched the cut. The head wound is the worst of it, still he doesn’t seem to have any residual effect from that.”
“You attended to his wounds at Scotland Yard.”
He nodded. “He was in some difficulty then, from some sort of altercation on the street, I was told. Although it did seem a bit more severe than what I usually see.”
An altercation on the street? It was not surprising that Abberline would have called it that, protecting himself against any suspicion that it might have been otherwise.
“I must say that Sir Avery was most insistent that he be given whatever care was needed. It was good that I was called in when I was. He had lost a good amount of blood.”
Brodie had still not moved.
“When might I speak with him?” I asked.
“I gave him another dose of laudanum a short while ago. It’s only now taken effect. It will be several more hours. Rest is best now, to let his body do its work.
“The human body is a remarkable thing,” he went on to explain. “It has amazing restorative powers given a chance, once the bleeding has been stopped and wounds have been closed.”
It was most encouraging.
“You’ve had experience with such things?”
“A bit of experience in Burma. You see most everything in war. It was there I met Sir Avery. We returned together, along with several others, and he persuaded me to join him in a new assignment he was taking on,” he continued. “Hence the Agency,” he said with an engaging smile. He gestured to the pot in my hand.
“It appears that you might be in search of coffee? Come along then,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“With the hours I often keep, I have discovered where to find fresh, hot coffee. Is that fellow your escort?” he asked of the hound as he joined us.
Dr. Daniel Watson was most congenial and with a surprising sense of humor, a stark contrast to Sir Avery.
“One has to have a sense of humor when dealing with wounds, amputations, and very often death,” he explained over hot coffee that did wonders for restoring my energy.
“I suspect the other choice might be to simply go insane. It can all be quite gruesome.” He had looked at me, quite curious.
“It is most unusual to find a woman working for the Agency, aside from Miss Penworth, of course. She does have a special affinity for information-gathering. And then there are the ladies who come in to clean; several are wives of the warders. One doesn’t usually encounter someone who actively pursues solving crimes.”
It seemed that my agreement with Sir Avery had brought some attention.
“Mr. Brodie and I have a private inquiry firm,” I explained. “He has worked with the Agency in the past, when a case has required it.”
